When the Wind Blows
by chinchin unicorn
Summary: They call us insane and that's why we're here. Beaten. Abused. Violated. Within these broken walls are our broken screams. So I wait for when the wind blows me away from here.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.**

 **Unbeta'd: Daily-ish updates. All mistakes are my own. Sorry for the mess.**

 **Warnings: Mature content and possible trigger warnings.**

* * *

Thud.

The window is cold as my head hits it. I don't mean to. My wrists are bound and the car ride is bumpy. The day is gray and the sky wants to cry but it can't. Kind of like me. Tears are barely just there. Caught in the web of torment. Not letting me weep my sorrows away as I remember. Remembering is what got me here in the first place.

He screams my name, "Bella!" But it comes out more like a gurgle. Unintelligible. But I know. I try to reach him but all I can really recall is the way his hands fight the water, slapping at the surface as he tries to bring himself to sweet, precious air.

Thud.

"Everything will be okay, Bella."

Mother pats my hand. She sits with me in the backseat. I don't think I've ever seen her sit back here. But here she is. Soothing me like I don't ever remember her doing before.

"Dr. Black is one of the best. He promises me he will cure you."

Father grunts from the front. I ignore it. He's always preferred Emmett to me. His only son when I am just his daughter and sons were so rare these days. I wish Emmett were with me now, but they told me no. That he couldn't come. That he'd stay home while they locked me away or in their words, "get me help."

Thud.

Hours pass. Maybe minutes. Or seconds. I can't tell with time anymore. But then it's there. Sitting against the ocean. Forgotten in its age. You'd never know its purpose at first glance. What the dilapidated walls hide within.

For a few brief moments, my head is saved from the cold glass as we watch the wrought iron gates open with slow precision, the wind blowing dead leaves, marking our path. Mother sobs next to me, her hands pressed against her mouth as if she's trying to hold all of her pain inside herself. Above the gates, sits the namesake of my new home, the curling letters pulling us in. Port Angeles Asylum welcomes me with enthusiasm.

Thud.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm having a hard time getting all the rusties out. Nothing I put on paper is making me happy. So I'm trying this out.**

* * *

His smile is too rich for me. Too perfect. Too bright. I don't like it. But Mother and Father do. They greet him like long lost friends would. I stare. That's all I can do. My hands are bound still and no one seems to care.

Mother pulls on my arm, and it isn't like I can't refuse her summon. "This is our Bella."

Father grunts again. He stands to the side as if afraid to touch me. "Is everything handled?"

Too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright nods his head. "Yes. We received the paperwork and the first payment yesterday."

"Good."

Mother starts sobbing again. Emmett would comfort her. He is that sort of boy. Kind and empathetic. I am cold and unfeeling. They called me Brrr Bella. But never Emmett. He knew the real me. The one deep inside. That hid from everyone else.

"Please save our child."

"We'll do our best, Mrs. Swan."

I'm led away from my parents, Mother clutching at my clothes one last time as if she doesn't want to let me go. Father forces her to. He doesn't even say goodbye. I thought it would hurt, watching them drive away, back to a home I don't know if I'll ever see again, but everything feels numb, and even the wind whipping my hair around my face, biting at my skin, can't make me feel.

That's when I see him for the first time, beyond lifeless brown strands. He's sweeping the grounds. The leaves kicking up and swirling in the gusts from the ocean. He's not cleaning anything, but he doesn't seem to mind, whisking that broom back and forth carelessly.

His eyes are so green against all the gray as he watches me carefully with a sort of clarity I didn't expect in a place like this. It's different. The judgment he casts on me. Almost like the blues of my brothers. And for one brief moment, that numb turns to hope that maybe this green-eyed man knows too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for sticking around all my messy ways.**

* * *

I don't like him.

He pulls at my bindings, leading me like a dog through the hall. Eyes peek out from behind barely closed doors, tattered dresses whispering through the cracks. Curiosity follows as I'm taken to my own prison of steel bars and concrete walls.

"Here we are," Too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright says. "This space is all yours."

He gestures to the blank enclosure, dirty from years of misuse, and the folded mattress sitting on top of the wire bed frame. It screams deserted to me. Because that's what I was. No matter how hard he tries to convince me differently. Emmett would say to stay positive. To not let the darkness take me. To remember who I am and stay strong until I can go home.

I don't like him.

Too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright glances over at me, a slight frown marring that smile. "Here. Let me help you with that."

He grabs my wrists gently, wrapping his fingers around until the tips touch, stroking at the bindings and soothing where I've rubbed raw. With a click, the binds fall away, leaving me free and yet trapped at the same time as he pulls me toward him. Only slightly. Not enough to cause alarm. But I feel it. And I hate it.

"I'm Orderly 4311, but everyone here calls me Hale. You're Isabella, right?"

I don't like him.

He's taller than me. I have to bend my neck back just to look into his eyes. They're so blue, glittering against all the dull in the background. It's almost other worldly just how much they stand out. Almost as crazed as I would expect a patient's eyes would look like. But he's not a patient. He's a man. Put here to protect me. To heal me. To send me home whole.

"Isabella," he whispers across my skin. "I like that name. Very beautiful. Just like you."

Those fingers on my wrists leave trails of cold up my arms, swiping thumbs at my elbows, knuckles digging into my shoulders. Until his palms are cupping my cheeks, relief against my wind-burned skin. His lips are kind as they brush against my forehead, whispering words of comfort and affection.

"Don't you worry, Isabella. I'm here to save you."

I don't like him.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm feeling this one.**

* * *

His lips are cold and wet against my skin, making a trail from my forehead to across my cheek. He's going to kiss me. I just know it. But I don't want him to. The idea of his lips on mine makes me shiver, and I think he misunderstands because his palms pull me closer, engulfing me in a sweet spicy scent so strong it makes me dizzy.

"Wait..." I try, but it's so hard to fight back after being numb for so long.

"Shush, Isabella," he whispers where my lips curve together. "Let me help you. I will make you feel so good."

"Please…" Stop. But I can't seem to finish anything these days. Not a sentence. Not a memory. Not a nightmare.

"That's right. Just let me. Just let me."

His cold-and-wet are against my dry-and-warm, and I knew I would hate it this much. His breath smells like over-ripened peaches. Too sweet and sickly. Just like his smile. I lay my hands against his shoulders, wanting to push him away, but nothing within me cooperates. It's almost as if I want to punish myself.

"Your lips are the sweetest taste, Isabella."

I shake my head, willing my foot to step back and rejoicing when it listens. He growls, so lightly I almost don't hear it. But I do not miss the warning in his eyes. The tightening of his fingers. The tension in his body. As if everything in him is saying, "Don't defy me. Things could be so much easier if you do what I want."

"Hale?" I don't know the voice, but I do know the eyes. So much green. My calming green. My lovely green. My savior green.

"Patient." This time he doesn't hide the growl. "There better be a good reason for your insubordination."

Those greens stare at me with that certain sort of clarity I saw before, but he talks to Orderly Hale. "Patient Mary is calling for you."

Hands drop from my face as he sidesteps around my body. "For me? You're sure?"

"Yes." And then too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright walks away from me, and it's just me and those green, green eyes. And for a second, his lips move like he's going to say something, bless me with his words of recognition of sanity, but he doesn't. Instead, he sends a smile so loopy I can see why he was sent here.

"Well, see you around, Wendy." And before I can even correct him, he's gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning Reminder: This story will allude to and have scenes of rape and other forms of abuse.**

* * *

No one comes to check on me. Not since Orderly Hale left and my green, green savior sauntered away. I had chased after him. But only as far as my prison's doorframe. I couldn't muster the energy to overcome my hesitation as he danced down the hallway, knocking on doors as he passed, waving at peeking eyes with that never-ending loopy smile. I would have called out for him, but I didn't even know his name.

"Come back," I say out loud or it could have been in my head. I'm not sure of much these days.

Emmett would have gone after him. He'd have become his best friend. Especially after knowing how he saved me from…whatever that situation with Orderly Hale was. I hate to think about it. What could have happened. What was happening. My skin is still crawling with how his lips felt against mine. There's a tiny spark of anger amongst all the numbness. I'm angry that I couldn't stop him. That I didn't stop him.

The setting sun casts shadows on the wall as the wind beats against the window. It's a terrifying new home, but I guess I'll just have to make do. Emmett would be so proud of my resilience, but not of my "making do" which is pushing back the mattress and curling into a little ball. It's cold, and the blanket provided does nothing to curb the cutting air.

As the room grows darker, the surrounding noise grows quieter, and though I do my best to fight it, I fall asleep. I never win in. Because the nightmares are always there. Waiting. Ready to pounce. Full of water and helpless hands and so much blue that the tiny bit of red dripping down skin glares even from where I stand.

He's yelling. That never changes. "Bella! Help me, Bella!"

But this time, when he goes under, he doesn't come back up. Some nights he pulls himself from the water. Some nights I never see him rise from the slowly reddening pool. Just bubbles. Rising to the bloody surface. Until finally glass. Red glass. So smooth as if there aren't hidden secrets drowning beneath it's surface.

I jerk from the bed, my throat raw with the scream dying from my lips, and for a moment, that's why I think I was torn from the relentless nightmares. But when my heart has calmed down and my breathing no longer beats in my ears so that's all I can hear, that's when it's quiet enough that the faintest of sounds makes itself known.

A squeaking bed frame. Muffled crying. Low, low groans. And the softest of whispers coming through the wall. "Let me help. I'm here to save you."


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm so glad tomorrow is Friday. I love my Fridays.**

* * *

I teeter on the edge of sleep and wakefulness for the rest of the night. Not quite sleeping but not really awake either. That is until the sun drapes its' light over my eyes and I have no choice but to join the real world again. Luckily the restless night kept the nightmares at bay, but their red and blue still aches across my sore muscles with the tension that always makes me feel so tired.

"Good morning, Patient." I wrench up, almost expecting Orderly Hale to be waiting by my bedside. But the voice is too high, too feminine to be his. It matches perfectly to the tiny waif of a girl, on her knees, with her chin tucked right against my mattress, her smile so big I want to trust her even though I know I shouldn't.

"Who are you?"

"Patient Mary," she says and then leans in closer, whispering so quietly I barely hear her, "But everyone calls me Alice."

"Why?"

"I hate my name." Her gray eyes glitter at she watches me carefully.

"Why Alice?"

"I'm still waiting for my rabbit hole to save me."

"Why are you here in my room, Alice."

She scoots back, showing me the bundle of clothes on her lap. "I brought you your uniform."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, and if you don't Hale will you help." She pauses, waiting as I climb from the bed and start undressing because that's the last thing I want. It's unsetting having this stranger watch me as I strip, but it's nothing new compared to the Girls House back at home. She clicks her tongue and seems almost happy. "You are not his type."

"Who?"

"Hale."

"What?"

"I figured you'd prefer me over him," she says as I pull on the last of my uniform. Soft beige cotton pants and pullover shirt.

"Thank you. How did you know?"

"I saw you coming in. I'm your neighbor."

My eyes flicker to the wall of muffled crying and low groans. "You sleep in the room next to mine?"

"Yes." I hate how she watches me so carefully. Like she knows I heard the horribleness going on last night. But how do I bring it up? How do I acknowledge the abuse? "Things aren't as they seem here."

"They aren't really here to help us, are they?"

"They save us in so many different ways," she says, taking my hand. I jerk away. "It's best to do what they say.""

"I can't accept that." I shake my head no.

"You have to. You're Patient Isabella now, and there's nothing you can do to fight it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Happy Saturday! Hope all of your weekends are going well!**

* * *

Patient Mary leads me down the hall, pointing out other patients as we go. I try to listen to her, but sometimes she talks too fast that it's hard to follow along and then it's easier to pretend that I'm listening than to actually comprehend her words. Emmett would shake his head. He is always berating me for how lost I get in my own thoughts. If he were here, he would probably say something like, "Listen to her, Bella. Get to know this place. You need to survive."

But surviving is so hard sometimes. Just doing what I'm asked to do? Doesn't that sound easier?

Even so, some names do stick in all the words. Maybe it's because they're the different ones. Insane? Probably. But we all were a little crazy. I couldn't have known for sure, but they all seemed to be on my level. That we all were put in here for someone else's justification.

Like Patient Angela, tall and stocky with wide hips and gaunt features. She's insane for carrying on an affair with a married man. It lasted a whole year before his wife found them in their marriage bed, naked as they day they were born with their legs and arms tangled around one another just on the brink of completion. That was the last almost-orgasm Patient Angela ever had before the wife spent an enormous amount of her husband's money to lock his mistress away in this asylum.

"They say she was pregnant when she came in. A boy."

"What happened to him?"

"No one knows." They wouldn't have tossed the child. Not a male anyway.

"That's Tanya," Patient Mary says, pointing out a statuesque blonde. "She doesn't like men."

"Who does?" I think I'm funny but slightly too numb to even laugh at my own jokes.

"No…" Patient Mary pauses, her smile shy and sneaky all at the same time. "As in sexually."

"Oh…"

"She's no use to society out there so no one cared when she was put in here."

"Oh…" I say again because it's so hard to articulate my thoughts.

"There's Jessica and Lauren." She points down the hall. "They're sisters."

A witty comment catches on my tongue because there's no way I wouldn't have been able to tell that they were related…twins in fact. One body with two beautiful heads sitting on their wide shoulders. Patient Lauren—I think—has the shorter style. cut just below her chin, reminding me of a sort of twenties girl. A fashion that had come back around just a few years ago. Patient Jessica—I think—has longer, wavier hair that's only missing the touch of baby breaths. She's softer looking. Not as severe as her sister.

"No one knew what to do with them outside of here." Patient Mary continues. "No one still knows what to do with them. The orderlies usually leave them alone."

Somehow I knew they were the lucky ones of us all in this place.


	8. Chapter 8

**I try to stick to shorter chapters because I find that I put too much pressure on myself when I try to make them longer. But they're slowly getting longer as we go. At this rate the epilogue will be an entire page! Bahahaha.**

* * *

There's always a brief moment of my day where the numbness seems to fade. Where I can feel and react and articulate my thoughts without having to work through the fog that seems to take up my mind. As Alice leads me I feel that little bit if lightness take flight. My feet don't drag. My hands don't sway by my side. It's like I have control over my body once again.

And then suddenly he's there, pushing a cart with that ridiculous smile still plastered to his face.

Too-rich-too-perfect-too-fucking-bright sees Alice and I and pushes his cart in our direction. "Well if it isn't my two favorite girls." I manage a glare, and it's a wondrous feeling to be able to react appropriately.

Alice giggles. "Good morning, Hale."

"I was wondering where the two of you went off to this morning."

"Sorry about that," she answers. I can't tell if she's purposefully putting on the charm for him or if she actually means every saccharine word and action that flows from her. I hate it, and I hate her just the tiniest bit because of it. "I was just showing Patient Isabella around."

Hale waves his hand in dismissal. "Not a problem. As it goes, I have your cocktails right here. A bit behind schedule, but better late than never, right?"

He hands Alice a small cup of what Mother called candy from the cart before reaching down and handing me one too. "Everything you're used to Patient Isabella," he says, "With only a minor change is all. One of Dr. Black's special orders."

The cocktail—as they call it here—feels familiar in my hands. Mother has been feeding me this stuff for months now. Ever since the nightmares started. I don't know why they keep giving it to me. The nightmares haven't gone away. They're still there, haunting me every night.

Alice quickly swallows all of hers, and with only a slight hesitation, I follow her lead with a grimace. Orderly Hale claps his hands in joy. "Good job, girls. I have a few more rounds to make now, so I'll be seeing you later."

Patient Mary wiggles her fingers goodbye, watching as he approaches others with their very own special cocktail. It's a blur after that. Nothing really resonates within me except how my stomach growls at its lack of sustenance. But then my hand is holding a tray and there's food on it and I'm at a table with shadows passing by and Patient Mary talking so fast I have no idea what she's saying.

It's always like this. When the cocktail hits my system. Hours can go by and I won't even know it. I wouldn't be able to tell you what happened. Who I saw. What I ate. What I did. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of a conversation with my mother, having no idea what she was talking about. Sometimes I'd be walking down the street or in a store, having no idea where I was. Emmett called it Bella Time and laughed at how I couldn't keep things straight.

So it surprises me, that in all this blur, those eyes with so much clarity catch my own. My green savior sits not so far away. His smile is just as loopy as the day before, and I wish I could roll my eyes because it's almost endearing at this point. When I don't look away, he throws me a wink before subtly bending his head and opening his mouth into his palm. Pills of all different colors fall out and he quickly stashes them in his beige pocket.

It's not until much later that day when suddenly the clarity makes sense.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning applies in this chapter. Bad people doing bad things.**

* * *

"Bella!" I hear through the fog. The tiny cracks in the ceiling fascinate me. Each one so random, crawling across the plaster and branching out into so many different spider webs of torment. Is that what my life is now? One tiny crack at a time until the ceiling just collapses onto everything?

"Are you there?" I know the voice, but it's been so long since I've heard it, and I yearn for it to be real. "Bella!"

"Emmett?" I whisper, but I always have a hard time knowing if I'm speaking out loud or in my head.

"Over here!"

The windows are all sealed shut as is Patient Mary's description from the tour, but I manage to find a tiny crack where someone had tried to break free but was unsuccessful, resulting in a window that can't be opened but can't be shut, and if I try hard enough, I can feel the barely there draft sneaking through. I peek through the barred metal mesh but it's hard to make out anything besides lifeless streaks of gray. "Emmett! Where are you?"

I can't see him, but I know for sure that I can hear him. "Right here, sister."

I cry out in both joy and sadness. "Oh my god, Emmett! It's really you! I miss you so much!"

"I miss you too! I tried to get Mother and Father to bring you back but they won't listen to me."

"You don't know what it's like in here! I don't think they're here to help me."

"I'm so sorry, Bella. I'll try—" We hear it at the same time. Both of us sucking in our breaths as footsteps stop at my prison's threshold and the creaking of the door swinging open. "Shit! Be strong, Bella!"

"Emmett! Wait!"

"I'll be back. I swear it!"

"No! Emmett! Please!" I claw at the crack in the window, willing it to break under my fingers' pressure.

"Patient Isabella?"

"Don't leave me!"

"Patient Isabella?" The footsteps get closer. "Why are you on the floor?"

His strong hands hook under my arms, but I fight to join my brother, hanging on just barely to the metal mesh. "Here let me help you," he says.

Orderly Hale hooks his arms under my body, lifting me away from my salvation and cradling me close to his body. I cry out for him to put me down, but I'm not too sure if my words are legible beyond my sobs. He lays me down on my bed, kneeling on the floor beside me, his lips offering words of comfort and soft caresses.

"Don't you worry, Isabella," he whispers through kisses against my forehead.

"We're here to help you." His wandering hands smooth over my body as I clutch at his sleeves willing him to stop, shaking my head no back and forth against the pillow.

"I'm here to help you." His fingers play at the hem of my beige uniform, tickling at the barely exposed skin, and crawling up my stomach. I feel the sudden urge to vomit.

"I'll make you feel all better."


	10. Chapter 10

**It's easier to walk around the box in the middle of my floor than to squish it down and take it out to the dumpster. This is me not knowing what to say here.**

* * *

I think I'm whispering, over and over, shaking my head along with my words. "No. No. No. No."

I know I'm crying, tears down my cheeks, collecting in standing pools of fear against my neck. I ache to claw at the sticky, but whatever energy I have left in my arms is put toward pushing him away.

He shushes me, bringing my arms up around his neck instead. "There, there, Isabella. Let me do my job now."

He leans in for a kiss, despite my protests, and all I can do through this fog is accept my fate and wait for the disgusting press of his lips. I close my eyes, thinking it would be easier to ignore it that way, holding my breath until I realize the harsh exhalations of air isn't coming from me or him and that the kiss never did land on my lips. So I open my eyes and see Orderly Hale, his spine stiff and glancing over his shoulder.

There's a woman in the middle of my prison, grasping at her chest through her uniform as if she's trying to claw her heart out. "Hale…" she wheezes.

"Patient Rosalie," Orderly Hale says with a bit of stern in his voice. "What are you doing?"

"I have that feeling again." She tilts her head, long curly blonde hair brushing her thighs as she tries to rip at her shirt.

"Go find Orderly King."

"I tried!" she whines, almost hyperventilating as she grabs at her hem.

Orderly Hale stands up, his hands reaching out to her. "Patient Rosalie. Take control of yourself!"

With each step Orderly Hale takes away from me, a little bit of the fog sitting on my mind slips away. Nothing good can come out of it because since when did that ever happen to me, but I just know this is my chance, so I slip from the bed, pressing my back against the wall as I tiptoe against the edges of the prison and toward the door.

"Hale!" Patient Rosalie screams. "I need help!"

It's like watching in slow motion. Her blonde arching over her body like curling drops of golden rain as she throws herself back onto her heels. White knuckled fingers clench onto beige cotton so tightly I can almost hear the fabric ripping as she whips all of it over her head and away from her body.

Orderly Hale and I both freeze for completely different reasons, our gaze drawing to the heaving heavy tits. He's the first to recover with small steps toward the half-naked woman, whispering, "Yes, Patient. Let me help you."

I don't want to watch, and before I can even make the decision to leave, there's a hand in mine and green, green eyes calling my attention.

"Hurry, Wendy! Let's go!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Why does a last minute flight to Seattle cost around 200 dollars?! Whine whine whine.**

* * *

My green savior pulls me down the hall, knocking on each door as we pass much like he did that first day. We fly with a speed I wouldn't have been able to keep up with if his hand wasn't in mine, throwing a loopy smile back my way every time I trip over my own feet.

"Hurry, Wendy! Let's go!" he calls out again.

"Where are you—" I gasp, faltering as I lose my grip with the floor, sliding only a tiny bit before he helps me catch my balance. "Taking me?"

He turns the corner, pushing me against the wall with his body so there's brief moment where he's flush against me, before quickly stepping back with another loopy smile thrown across his face.

"Right here," he says.

Right here is another hall of this prison. It's not as crowded as mine, but there still are a few patients wandering about their day. I see a certain lack of clarity missing from their eyes in comparison to those patients living around me.

"Where are we?"

"Wing F." He shrugs his shoulders, glancing around as he dances on his tiptoes, waiting for something as if he's nervous. His eyes seem to linger a bit longer on a woman leaning against a closed door, her fingers tapping at the wood as soft sobs leave her mouth, her cheeks wet with tears.

"What's wrong with her?"

He shrugs his shoulders again, tiptoeing in her direction, laying that strong hand of his on her shoulder. "How are you today, Esme?"

She glances up at him, recognition in her eyes, and for a moment I think she's going to answer him because that's what normal people do when asked a question, and I see it when he thinks the same thing because her lips move as if she's trying to form words. But then her eyes fill with tears again and she drops her head against the door, still tapping away with her fingertips.

He looks disappointed as he gazes down at her. "I wish I could help you," he whispers into her ear, but he goes ignored, along with, "I wish I could save him."

She sobs a little louder, looking at him but not really seeing him. "Where is he? Where did he go?"

A scream echoes down the hall, so high-pitched and frighteningly angry that we all jump and freeze in surprise. My green savior tiptoes back to me, pressing my shoulders harder into the wall as if willing me to disappear into it. I wish I could.

We hear the slow descent of footsteps at the same time. His eyes widen as he presses a finger to his lips. Time seems to stretch as the footsteps grow louder. I expect Orderly Hale to turn the corner, catching us doing something wrong, even though I'm not sure what that wrong is. But it's not him. It's Patient Rosalie.

She has her shirt back in place and a devious smile on her face. She glances at my green savior and says, "You owe me, doc." Before disappearing down the hall.


	12. Chapter 12

**Tenses were tricky for me tonight. Sorry if it's wild and crazy.**

* * *

The day is growing late. I can tell with how the sun's casted shadows through the window play against the wall. My eyes are growing heavy with fatigue and fright and confusion because nothing seems to make sense in this place. All these feelings bundled up inside me make me so anxious that I sway the tiniest bit on my feet. Or it could be that I haven't eaten in a while. Not since breakfast. And even then I can't remember what I ate for breakfast. I hate how my days all seem to blend together so that I'm not even sure how it all passed.

"Is that your name?" I asked my green savior, fighting a yawn. "Doc?"

"One of many." He reaches up, brushing my hair from my face. "Wendy."

"You know that's not my name."

He shrugs. "It suits you."

He tiptoes over to Patient Esme again, laying his hand on her shoulder and bending over so that he can whisper into her ear. She cries harder and clutches at his hand as he goes to move away. "Be strong, Esme."

He turns to me, those green, green eyes of his so fierce in the dying light. "You too, Wendy."

"I'll try."

He hesitates for a brief second before sending me a loopy smile. "Excessive drinking is bad for you."

"What?"

"Over time it can cause symptoms such as sleep disorders and depression."

I shake my head at him, pursing my lips in foggy confusion. "Why are you telling me this?"

I don't understand my green savior at all. At times, he seems so sane that it doesn't make sense why he is a patient here. Other times—such as now—he seems so insane it is a little scary to be near him. The whiplash from his personalities make my head hurt.

"Cocktails," he finishes, and I know I'm slowly getting pulled into Bella Time.

"Say that again."

"Cocktails are especially tricky. So sweet but equally as bad for you."

"I don't drink." And never had. Not once in my life. Despite Emmett's constant badgering to join him in sweet bliss.

He places that strong hand of his on my shoulder, much like he did with Patient Esme. "Just be careful, Wendy. Okay?"

"I try but trouble always finds me."

"I've noticed." He smirks and it's so different from his loopy smile that I can't help but stare. That smirk makes him seem almost normal and so handsome. Because like this, him standing so close to me, his fingers digging gently into my skin, I'm so starry eyed with how good looking he is. Something I couldn't really notice before until he was literally right in front of my face.

"You look tired," he says, his scrutinizing flitting back and forth between my own. I'm sure he can see the purple bruises that appear so easily beneath me eyes. It's true so I nod my head in agreement. "You should go back to your room and sleep. Don't worry about Hale tonight."

"Okay…goodb—"

His fingers tighten the tiniest of bits. "Never say goodbye."

So I stare because I don't know what else to say under his fierce gaze until he walks away down the hall in the same direction that Patient Rosalie disappeared with Patient Esme's sobs trailing after him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Another Saturday! Another happy unicorn!**

* * *

I'm terrified as I walk back to my room. Each shadow, each creaking door, each shuffle against the floor is Orderly Hale waiting to haul me back by my arm and finish what he started. My green savior said I was safe, but that doesn't stop me from fearing the inevitable because it was only a matter of time, right? He couldn't be there to save me always. That isn't how life works.

I'm not sure if it's surprising or not when I spot the door to my prison without any complications, and even more so when I step up to the threshold to find an empty room with only the setting sun casting a shadow of doubt throughout the space. I almost expect Orderly Hale to jump out of the darkness and murmur his way into my defeat. But another diligent sweep proves the room to be empty.

It's after those few moments that I exhale in relief and quickly step forward that I let my guard down when an angry scream pierces the air, much like the scream that echoed down the fall before Patient Rosalie sauntered by. This one though originates from Patient Mary's room. I can tell because she screams again, her door practically vibrating.

And then his voice whispers through, "Patient Mary…Alice! Get a hold of yourself!"

"You wanted her! You fucking wanted her!"

I don't wait for his reply, practically tripping into my prison in my haste, slamming the door and finding my bed. Nothing ever felt so good as I sink into the mattress, wishing for sleep and letting it wash over me. Anything to escape this horror.

I dream of that day. I always dream of that day. The nightmares are always there. Never-ending. No escaping. Is there a verb for nightmares? Perhaps I should use that instead of dream. Because there's nothing whimsical about the blue and the red and the screams of my name.

Bang!

"Bella! Help me, Bella!" He always starts out that way, reaching for me but unable to grab on as he sinks below the watery surface. Red floats to the top, creating an ombre of color mixing in with the brilliant blue.

Sometimes nothing resurfaces except for tiny air bubbles popping their way to the top as a reminder of what was lost. Not tonight though…tonight that doesn't happen. First one hand appears, bursting through the water, creating a splash of blue and red, gripping onto the edge of the pool with a fierce determination. And then the second hand, both working in tandem to pull him up and onto concrete where he gasps for air, staring up at me in shock.

Bang!

"Why, Bella? Why?" I could never stand those words. The accusations behind them. The disappointment weaved through them. The shock of it all transferring from him to me. And the guilt that overcomes everything.

So I burst awake, a dying scream on my lips, as my ragged throat protests the whispers I can't help, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Bang!


	14. Chapter 14

**I'll be in Seattle until Wednesday for work, so review replies might be nonexistent, but I still have a chapter for each day and please know I appreciate all of you and your kind words.**

* * *

Nothing makes sense. Not the cracks on the ceiling. Or the slight draft from the window. The yelling in the hall. The otherwise silent prison. I expect everything to be painted a soft yellow. The ruffled comforter pushed below my knees. And Emmett just down the hall to soothe my nightmares.

Bang!

I'm jolted from my confusion and the fog of sleepiness seeps away, leaving a sort of lucidity I haven't felt in a long time. Even my body sings with freedom as each of my limbs follows my mind's command. The floor beneath my bare feet actually seems cool to the touch. The splintered wood on the doorframe. The crisp draft against my face as I pull at the knob to freedom. I think that's the first thing I recognize. Actually feeling something. And not just the weight of an object on me.

The silent hallway greets me. The dull glow of the hushing dawn is the only light that graces the walls, and my eyes grow heavy with dull fatigue. My body's reminder that I still have a few hours of sleep left. Or it could be the last of the candy making its way through my system.

Maybe that's why I don't hear it at first. Though now that I do, the soft sound is almost blaring in my ears. A whispered mewl and the brush, brush of skin against skin. I can't make out where it's coming, but the only open door is Alice's. Only just barely with a large crack running across the wood from the edge to the middle. I don't remember seeing it before, but then again there's a lot that I could have missed in Bella Time.

I hear it again. The whispered mewl. And maybe it's because I'm so concentrated on the crack in Alice's door but I could have sworn it came from her room. I glance down the hall at the other prisons just in case I might have missed something when I'm almost sure I'd imagined it when I hear it again.

"Yes…"

So I peek in because I've never been good without knowing and I instantly wish I hadn't given into my curiosity. They're so much skin and not a stitch of clothing. Whatever they were wearing was thrown in discarded piles on the floor. She's on her back. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his thighs.

He grunts, shushing at her increasing passion. All a mute point as he shifts closer, his knees spreading on the mattress, his hands lifting her waist higher, curving her body so that his thrusts go deeper into her.

She's goes wild. Loving the harsh. Loving the clenching. Shaking her head back and forth as those little whispered mewls spill out one after the other.

"Fuck. Alice…" Droplets of sweat fall from his curling blond hair, almost glowing in the dewy morning.

"Yes…"

"Let me hear you cry."

She begins to weep. Sad cries. Much like those I heard in the night however many days ago. But so unlike the pleasure on her face. She's a dichotomy of different emotions. But it drives him crazy. His hips move faster. His breaths grow shorter. He falls so easily into the abyss.

And it's her last tortured moan that follows me back to my room in a hurry. "Jasper…"


	15. Chapter 15

**If my calculations are correct, it should be Seattle Day 2, and I've survived the car trip with my coworkers.**

* * *

Alice doesn't come to me in the morning. I sit on my bed, waiting for her. Wanting to see if she would be different than the girl I am used. I've been unable to fall back asleep, the soft weeps through the wall keeping me up until the morning sun was high in the sky, shedding its shadows across my eyes.

That's how I keep time these days. By watching how the shadows of the sun lays on the wall. There aren't any clocks in this prison. No calendars. Like the orderlies couldn't be bothered to tell us how long we've been there. And I'm not sure how many days have passed since Mother and Father left me here. I don't even know how long it's been since Emmett came to me. I worry that he'll never come back.

Maybe Mother and Father caught him the last time. Found his room empty. Stayed up until he crawled back in through his window. They never understood our bond. Father hates how he treats me like an equal. Mother hates how I don't worship the ground he walks on. Most families don't have sons. So ours was unique indeed. Emmett is bound for great things.

They tried to separate us. Always I was the one to pay. I don't know how many Girls Houses I've been sent to. How many nights I've had to go without the comforts of my home. But Emmett was always there. Stealing me away in the night. Taking me back so that when Mother and Father awoke and saw me at the breakfast table there was nothing they could do but give into the whims of their son.

I jump when my door creaks open, Hale's cart stopping just before my prison's threshold. "Good morning, Isabella!" he says with surprise. "Didn't think I'd find you in here. Usually you're in the common room by now."

I shrug my shoulders. "Alice didn't come by."

"Ah, yes." He hands me my cup of candy. "Patient Mary had a rough night so she was ordered to rest today. I'll be bringing her cocktail to her right after you."

"Hm." It's awkward knowing exactly why she's tired so I glance down at the candy in my cup. The amount seems lower than usual. "Is this mine?"

Hale hums, only distantly watching me as his eyes jump from his cart to the cracked door just a few feet away. "Yes. Dr. Black's special order."

It would be easy to pretend to swallow when Hale seems so distracted. It'd be a first in a long time where I didn't walk around in a fog. Maybe then my green savior would talk to me more than just in passing. But I chicken out at the last second. The candy goes down rough.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hopefully it's Seattle Day 3, and I should be heading back home later tonight. If not, then I'm not exactly sure what's going on in my life right now, since I've uploaded these last few chapters prior to leaving. If I don't post tomorrow, someone call 911.**

* * *

Dr. Black is a big man. Even sitting at his desk. The expensive red cedar nothing more than a tinder box against his frame. I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here, but it seems like forever, and he still hasn't looked up from the paper he's writing on. Scratch, scratch, scratching away like I'm not waiting for his acknowledgement.

I glance behind. Almost expecting Orderly Hale to collect me. As if I've had my session with Dr. Black and just can't remember it. That's how it was with this appointment.

"Patient Isabella!" Orderly Hale ran up to me breathless, grabbing at my arm. "Did you forget? It's Tuesday. You have an appointment with Dr. Black today."

I don't know how they expect us to know what day of the week it is let alone when we have an appointment. Tuesday? It could've been Friday for all I knew. They never tell us anything of importance. Sometimes I think they prefer this dependency we have on them. Like if they weren't around we wouldn't be able to function.

"How are you, Miss Swan?" I glance up in surprise. Dr. Black's pen is sitting beside his folded hands, and he's staring at me with a sort of inquisitive look on his face.

"I'm okay."

"Any new developments since our last appointment?"

"I don't…" I wrinkle my forehead in thought. "I don't remember our last appointment."

He sighs. "That's what you said last time too."

My breath comes in short gasps. Just exactly how many times have we met? How many days have I lost? "I did?"

"Yes." He picks up his pen and begins writing again. "I prescribed you a different cocktail hoping it improve your cognition. Apparently it hasn't."

"How long have I been here, Dr. Black?"

He regards me so intensely it's like he's picking apart my brain with his eyes. "Just a little over a month."

I bow over in surprise, clutching at my rapidly beating heart. "It feels like just a few days."

He writes some more. "We'll try a different cocktail tomorrow. Bear with me, Miss Swan. These things take time."

Was it last night where I spied Orderly Hale and Patient Mary together? I'm not even sure now. "Are you really here to help me, Dr. Black?"

He's silent for a moment. "Why do you think you've been sent here to Port Angeles Asylum, Miss. Swan?"

"The nightmares. They never go away."

"Ah, yes. You've told me about these nightmares before. You don't like talking about them though."

I shake my head. "I live them every night. Why should I have to go through with it again if I don't have to?"

"Maybe that's the key to your success."

"Are you here to help me, Dr. Black?"

"I can only do so much from what you allow." He pushes his chair back, coming to a slow stand and taking his time walking around his desk until he can lay his hands on my shoulders. "Just remember, Miss Swan."

"Remember what?"

"We are all here to save you."


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry for the delay! I underestimated how tired I'd be when I got back from Seattle and then Spring Break happened. Not that I'm went anywhere, but I am housesitting for my parents. Free food. Yay!**

* * *

Patient Mary's sobs and Orderly Hale's whispered pleas are my ticking seconds as I count each one through the night. Maybe it's the new candy Dr. Black prescribed or all of the revelations I've been making, but no matter how heavy my eyelids are, I can't seem to keep them closed for more than a few hours at a time.

Though it seems as if Dr. Black was right in this aspect. I still find myself getting lost in Bella Time, however the days aren't melding together anymore. The fog, though still ever-present, isn't as thick and as stifling. And, I never thought I'd ever think this, but in a way I miss the nightmares, but that just might be my body craving for the sleep it desperately needs.

"Pst!"

My green savior has also noticed my candy's change in flavor. Every time I sweep the room for him, it never fails that I meet his gaze. He stares for only a few seconds and a quick tilt of his head before turning back to his companions a soft smile over his handsome face. His friends vary between Patient Rosalie and Patients Lauren and Jessica. Sometimes Patient Tanya is there, and once I even saw Patient Esme though her crying never stopped and she didn't seem as checked in as the others.

Orderly Hale hasn't come back to finish what he started. I would say "yet" but I know it's because my green savior has worked his tricks. It's a comfort knowing that he's watching out for me. Even just a tiny bit of his affections makes my heart stutter in a way that I haven't felt since this fog came down on me. Except for his disappointment I see every morning when I swallow the candy Orderly Hales gives me. And the frown that accompanies. I don't know why, but it hurts my heart to see it, and I almost prefer the loopy smile. No…I know I prefer it.

"Bella!"

I jerk my head toward the tiny draft in the window. "Emmett?"

"Hello, sister! I'm here!"

I scramble from the bed, my knees hitting the concrete with a painful slap, but it means nothing as I crawl toward the glass where my brother stands on the other side. I claw at the cracks in the window, willing it to shatter beneath my fingertips.

"Emmett! You came back!"

"Of course I did! I promised I would."

"I feel like it's been forever since your last visit."

"A few weeks actually." He sighs. I can hear the familiar pain at our separation. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. Mother and Father caught me the last time."

"I had a feeling that's what happened."

He growls and the glass shakes with the force of his fist. "I wish I could get you out of here, but everything is locked down."

I shake my head. "Even if you did, Father would send me right back anyway, and it'd be worse being sent here a second time around."

"Fuck! I wish there was something I could do."

"Keep talking to them. Tell them I'm getting better. Let them know that I want to come home." I can't help the tears of frustration that run down my cheeks.

"Shit, Bella." Emmett curses. "Don't cry. Remember to be strong!"

"I try. Every day I try. But it's getting so hard."

"Just hang in there a little longer. I promise I'll get you out of there."

I know he will because Emmett has never failed me before.


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry! But there won't be an update tomorrow. But I will be posting the last chapter of Blister in the Sun.**

* * *

"Hey, girl!"

I quickly wipe the sleep from my eyes and blink until the blur sharpens the yellow. Rosalie glares down at me, her hands on her hips as she nudges me with her foot. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Emmett." I whip around, pressing my fingers to the privacy glass, remembering a night of laughing at tales from home and crying silent tears at his retreat, aching on the cold ground but refusing to move until his next visit and finally succumbing to a fitful sleep.

"Who's Emmett?"

I shake my head. "No one."

"Tell me." She's insistent, pulling me in with her voice. I close my eyes, doing my best to block her out.

"Just someone from back at home."

She's silent long enough to where I think she's left, but when I open my eyes, slowly sweeping the room with my gaze, there she is, glaring down at me. Not really hating. But definitely not loving. "You owe me."

I let out a deep breath, and it's both painful and cathartic to let the words fall out. "He's my brother."

"And?"

"He was here last night."

Her head whips toward the window. She peer out as if can see beyond the glazed glass. "Here? Are you sure?"

I can't tell the time, but it must be later in the morning because the fog is so miniscule that I can see the last of it escaping along the edges, so the anger that fills me isn't surprising. "I'm not crazy!"

Rosalie slowly turns her gaze back to me, a careful sort of neutral washing over her features. "I never said you were."

"He was here, and I don't care if you believe me or not."

"You misunderstand."

I laugh, sounding more like a patient than ever. "How so?"

"If you know about them, there are ways out of this asylum. From there, your escape is either the sea or the front gates. That is the impossibility."

"Then…how did Emmett get in here?"

She flips her hair over her shoulder, turning toward the door with an air of dismissal. "Next time he comes, you should ask."

"I will…"

"Also…"

"Yes?"

She glances over her shoulder only enough for me to see one blue eye through all the blonde. "Our friend is not as blunt as me so I'll outright say it for you. Don't swallow your cocktails."

We hear the rolling wheels of the cart just before Hale pushes the door open. "Patient Rosalie! What a pleasant surprise." She ignores him with a roll of her eyes and walks away without even a wave, knocking on doors as she disappears down the hallway.

"Good morning, Isabella," Hale says handing me my candy. "Did you sleep better tonight? Dr. Black would like to know."

I stare down at the color in the cup, wondering how I can get away with it. "Yes."

"Oh good. He'll be happy to know that. Now bottoms up."

I tip the cup back into my mouth, the candy sitting like lead on my tongue. He watches with that disgusting smile on his face, and this time I am surprised by how much I want to stab it off.

"Hale?" Alice stands at the threshold, looking worse for wear. I don't remember her face being that pale or cheeks that gaunt or her eyes that dark with exhaustion.

"Alice! Good morning!" He steps closer, one arm wrapping around her shoulders and the other's palm resting on her stomach as he turns to lead her back to her room where she's started spending most of her time. He glances back at me almost as an afterthought. "Are we done here, Isabella?"

I smile because I can't answer.

I wait until I find my green savior in the common room. Rosalie sits at his side, talking low into his ear. He nods at her words until he catches my gaze. I cup my mouth, pitching my head forward so that the candy on my tongue falls out, pocketing it all before anyone else can see.

He smiles and this time it isn't loopy.


	19. Chapter 19

**Happy Friday!**

* * *

I listen carefully at the sounds of the prison coming through the crack in my door. It's a busy morning, and everyone seems to be up and about. There's an excitement going through the air. Just from their hushed whispered, I can't tell if people are thrilled or scared.

"I can't believe it's her!" I recognize Jessica's voice.

"Whatever." Lauren is not as amused as her sister drags her down the hall.

"We've never had anyone famous in here." I crack my door open a little bit more, catching Angela's gaze as she twists her hair between her hands.

Lauren notices me in my doorway, raising a curious eyebrow. I would tell her to keep on moving, but I wisely change tactics. "What's going on?"

Jessica hops on her foot, forcing her sister to stretch her leg up to accommodate her. Lauren slaps at her arm. "Stop that!"

"It's Jane Jolie!" Jessica explains. "Slayed by Pain is one of my favorite movies!"

Hale turns the corner, his cart crashing into the wall. "Shit!" He scrambles to keep the cups in line. Only Angela notices when I slip against the wall to Alice's door, knocking softly on the wood. Her eyes are full of questions, but nothing comes out of her mouth.

Lauren rolls her eyes. "Let's get out of here, Jess."

"Not yet! Let's wait for them to bring in Jane."

"Good morning, ladies!" Hale greets everyone. "Why are you all gathered here today?"

"Jane Jolie," Jessica answers.

"Oh yes! Our new movie star resident." He hands me my cup. "A special cocktail for a special lady."

I smile a timid thank you.

Angela carefully watches as I tip the candy back into my mouth, while saying, "The rumor is that she killed a bunch of her coworkers in their sleep while filming. Some sort of breakdown. The trial didn't even last a month."

The candy sits painfully on my tongue.

"Because that's their solution to everything with people who don't fit in." Lauren smirks, but there's more bitter on her face than humor.

I nod silently, ignoring the urge to spit, just as Alice opens her door. She's wiping at her mouth with the ends of her sleeve, the black under her eyes almost taking up her whole face. Hale's happiness drops like a stone as he rushes to her side. "Patient! Are you okay?"

Alice steps back into her room, Hale close on her heels, and we all wince at the sound of her retching. That's when the screaming starts. Not by her, but ringing down the hall. These high-pitched wails of agony.

"I'm not fucking crazy, you motherfucking assholes!" When Jessica drags her twin closer to the entrance hall, I know it's the new patient coming in.

Her yells make my brain vibrate in pain, so when no one is looking, I escape toward Wing F, coughing into my hand and pocketing the wet candy. Jane Jolie's screams follow me, but they're just a faint echo of what they were before, blending into the silence, a soprano to Esme's sobbing harmony.

"Hello, Esme," I say, laying my hand on her shoulder. Her fingers grab at mine, but she doesn't raise her head from where it's leaning on the door. "How are you today?"

"Can you help him?" It's hard to understand her around the never-ending weeping, but I've grown used to trying to translate her from the past few days of visits.

"Who are you talking about?"

She taps the door, and it's the first time I see her show any other emotion besides sadness. Her knock is almost frustrated. "Help him please!"

"Tell me who he is, Esme."

She doesn't speak again, her crying too powerful to allow her, so I lean against the door instead, pushing wet strands of hair from her face. When I hear it the first time, I think it's Esme, but I had been brushing the tears from her cheeks, and I know for sure that her lips hadn't moved. When I hear it the second time, I realize it's coming from beyond the closed door we both rest on.

"Peter? Is that you?"


	20. Chapter 20

**I've pulled an all nighter. Sorry for any mistakes here O.O**

* * *

"Hello?"

I press my ear to the door. Silence. Only Esme's sobs and the distant screams of our new celebrity greet me. That's all I hear, and long enough to where I think I imagined the words filtering through. Maybe the candy isn't all out of my system yet, though it's been days. And just when I thought I'd jumped back onto the crazy train, I hear it again.

"Peter? Is that you?"

"Who is this?" I tap on the wood, hoping to draw the attention of the occupant inside.

"I'm sorry, Peter," the voice says. It's hard to tell when the words seem almost whispered, but there's a gravely sense to it like that of a man and that surprises me more than anything. Besides my green savior, I didn't know of any other men patients in this prison.

I tap and speak a little louder so that my voice rings above Esme's crying. "What's your name?"

"I can't help you, Peter," he says. I hear scratching from the other side of the door. "I'm too lost."

I grab at the knob and pull, expecting the door to swing open just as mine does, but it doesn't budge. I don't believe it at first, pulling again and then harder, banging on the wood with my fist out of frustration. Esme watches with teary eyes filled with despair and a small twinge of hopefulness that disappears when I give up.

"What the hell…"

A hand lands on my shoulders, and I nearly jump out of my shoes, spinning around and backing into the door. I clutch at my heart, feeling it race within in my body, as my green savior laughs at me.

"You'd never been able to move that fast with all those cocktails in your system."

I breeze out an answer, my lungs still playing catch up with my scare. "Well you said cocktails are bad for me."

"Glad you finally listened." He tilts his head toward Esme and the door we're leaning on. "What's going on here?"

The voice. The man. I spin again and tap on the wood. "There's someone in there! They're trapped I think."

He does that little dancing saunter move, tapping his way over to Esme and leaning down close. "How are you today?"

She looks up at him with the ever-present tears. "Can you help him? Please, can you help him?"

He smiles, but there's a hint of sadness in it as he nods his head no. "I'm sorry."

"Peter?" I hear again through the door. "Peter, is that you?"

I jump forward, grabbing at my green savior's hand, pulling him closer to the wood. "Listen! There it is."

He smiles at me, his eyes dancing between the small space between us and our interlocked hands. I try to pull away in panic, but he doesn't let me, his grip too tight. I'd say my mind is playing tricks on me when he dances just the tiniest bit closer, but it's as clear as a cloudless day, and I hold my breath in…anticipation? Fear? Maybe…excitement?

"Peter?"

My green savior leans down, and for a brief moment, I think he's going to kiss me, and I halfway close by eyes in preparation, but he bypasses my lips. Instead, pressing them close to the wood. "Hello, old friend."

"Peter, I can't help. I'm too lost."

"That's okay. We've got this out here." He eyes pivot in my direction, the clarity in them smiling so bright.

I shake my head in confusion. Maybe a little of the fog is still lingering. "What's going on?"

He lifts our hands, cradling them to his heart, pulling me closer, whispering his words against my hair. "Want to go somewhere with me?"

I don't even have to think about it. "Yes."


	21. Chapter 21

**This chapter makes me smile that we finally got to this point ;-)**

* * *

He pulls me down the hall, his fingers interlocked with mine, keeping me close to his side. Others stare from their doors, though the further in we go, the less clear their gazes become, and I wonder if this is where the truly insane hide. Jane Jolie's screams follow us, though by now they're nothing more than a soft echo at the back of our minds.

Even then, I can't help glancing over my shoulder—maybe more out of habit than anything—but I'm still waiting to be caught by an orderly. I'm not exactly sure what we're doing wrong, but anything with my green savoir seems scandalous and wrong…but only in the best of ways.

The tingles traveling from my fingertips and up my arm, electrify my heartbeat 'til it's racing so fast I'm not sure if my body will hold out. But his quick glance and soft smile filled with so much—dare I say—longing, keeps me on my feet and steadily fastened to his side. Though it takes much effort on my part that I'm panting with exertion, I keep up with his strides.

"Where are we going?"

Another glance. Another smile. "We're almost there."

There are only closed doors in this wing. Large, intricately carved old oak doors that loom down our path, marking each step we make. There are no patients. No crazy eyes to ask questions when words are too hard to speak. Until finally, he steps up to one of those fine looking doors and opens it, pulling me silently inside and locking us away from the horrors of the prison.

The room is an office of sorts. A large window overlooks the cliff that falls into the ocean, a dusty red cedar desk sits in front of it, surrounded by busy shelves and a leather couch near a forgotten fireplace. It feels familiar. The fingerprint swirls in the settled dust. The overturned books on the table flipped to random pages. The scattered papers and pens on the desk. Maybe it's because it reminds me of Dr. Black's office, though smaller in scale and nowhere near as grand.

"What is this room?"

My green savoir leans over the desk, his eyes following the words on the paper. "The only thing they let me keep."

"They?" I wander over to the couch, not by choice it seems. My feet carry me as if they know what to do more than I. The leather is worn with time, but the dust on one side is disturbed, pushed to the edges, forming the perfect shape for me to sit on.

My green savoir watches me with careful eyes. I hate it. I already miss the tiny glances and smiles. "The orderlies."

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Why not?"

I grimace at his roundabout answers. "Won't you tell me your name?"

"What do you call me in your head?" Another tiny smile, this one tinged as if he knows a secret I don't.

I shake my head no, my cheeks heating with red. "You know my name. It only seems fair that you give me yours."

He comes around the desk, stepping up to the couch so that his knees just barely brush against mine. "I've already given it to you."

I hold my breath in surprise, my eyes so wide they ache as I search my brain for a time when he spoke more than just a few words to me. "You have?"

His stare down at me is gentle with understanding as he sweeps his knuckles across my blush. "Yes, but I'm not surprised you don't remember with all those cocktails running through you."

"There isn't any in me now."

"I'm glad." When he sits next to me in a flurry of undisturbed dust, my body knows this is a first. "Before, I told you my secrets. My worries. My plans. My…desires."

I swallow. "I don't remember."

"I know." He takes his hand into mine again, interlocking our fingers, glancing down at our connection long enough that I wonder what he is thinking. "But since you don't remember, I'll tell you my name one more time."

"Yes…"

"Edward."


	22. Chapter 22

**I love the theories some of you have shared with me!**

* * *

"Edward," I whisper just to make it real. To hear my own voice say it. To commit it to memory. Like saying his name out loud makes sure he can't take it back. "Edward."

"Wendy..." His smile is soft as his knuckles brush my blush again, so gentle that I don't even mind his nickname for me. His fingers tremble slightly. Whether it's because of trepidation or exhilaration, I'm not exactly sure. "That's the first time you've ever said it. My name that is."

I scrunch my eyebrows in thought. "How many times have I been here with you?"

"Almost every day since you got here."

I straighten up in surprise. "What? Really?"

"Yes," he says, shrugging his shoulders like it's no big deal.

"You brought me here almost every day…" I mumble to myself. "I can't believe I don't remember any of it."

"Woah, woah, woah! Wait a minute." He laughs, covering his face with his hands, the pink hue on his cheeks peeking through his fingers. "I didn't bring you here."

"What?"

"You followed me." He drops his hands, grabbing at mine again. "Every day you would find me."

"Oh my god." I groan, mimicking his earlier position and hiding behind my palms. "I did not."

He's filled with so much mirth as he tries to pry my fingers away from my blush. "It's okay. I didn't mind."

I dodge his efforts. "What did I do?"

"Mostly just sat there. Sometime Rosalie was here. Or Tanya. Or Jessica and Lauren. Sometimes we were alone. You were always lost in your own little world."

"Bella Time."

"What's that?"

"That's what Emmett calls it," I say, peeking through my fingers at him. "Bella Time."

He succeeds in pulling my hands away. Though if I'm honest with myself, I break and let him intertwine our fingers because I like the tingle that shoots through me when he does. "Don't worry. After hours of Bella Time, I always brought you back to your room with not a single hair harmed on your pretty head."

I laugh, smiling down at our hands. "It doesn't surprise me I guess. I wondered why I didn't see a lot of you, but I always felt safe around you."

He reaches up, tilting my head so that our eyes meet. "That's what you called me. Your green savior."

His finger holds my chin gently, so when I try to look away, he doesn't let me. I don't try very hard to escape his touch. "I can't believe all of this."

He smiles, soothing my burning cheeks. "Don't be embarrassed. I liked it."

"Edward…did you explain things to me?"

All emotion drops from his face, and a neutral look replaces them. But those green eyes of his remain intense. And even he knows how fierce they are when he throws his head back, groaning at the ceiling. "Yes. Sometimes I got so frustrated and would just pour everything out to you. I always hoped you would remember the next day, but you never did."

I squeeze his fingers, leaning forward and begging with my eyes. "Please tell me again. Please! I don't understand anything."

He shakes his head but more out of thought than no. "There's so much…"

"Anything. Tell me anything." I implore, mimicking his actions again, and tilting his chin back down. His gaze travels across my face, his eyes losing a bit of the intensity at what he sees. "Let's start with you then. Who are you? Why are you here?"

He takes a deep breath, holding it in for so long that I think he's not going to say anything, but then he releases it slowly in a low sigh, scratching at the back of his head in thought.

"My name is Edward Masen…Dr. Edward Masen, and I used to work here."


	23. Chapter 23

**For a good laugh, google: buzzfeed brothers convince sister of zombie apocalypse**

 **I died. Seriously. Ded.**

* * *

The world is spinning. Everything is so blurry. Day becomes night and the ceiling is where the floor once was. Hands grab at my flailing arms as I cry out with what little air is left in my lungs. Whispered words blow across my cheek, and I wince at the heat, pushing at his shoulders in panic.

"Wendy," he says, gathering me into his arms, my heart racing with each closed inch. "Breathe."

I shake my head. Not at his instructions to inhale. Or his even his much-to-close proximity. But at my body's internal debate. Do I hold him just like he holds me? Or do I push him away because he's one of them?

"Let me go, doctor."

His words are sharp, cutting through my hesitation with their edge. "Don't call me that."

"You're just like them." Manipulating. Fake. Secretive. All these words stuck at the tip of my tongue.

"I'm not. Please listen." He begs, his arms shaking, but not enough for me to pull away. His strength never wavers.

"Isabella," he tries again, almost whimpering at my indifference. "Please."

"Don't call me that." That name. That horrible name. It's reserved for my father. My mother. The orderlies. My doctor…

He rubs his forehead against my shoulder. Or maybe it's his tears. Because he leaves behind a tiny wet spot in the beige. But why would he be crying? What is it that makes him so sad? "Please listen to me, Wendy. You did before."

"I didn't know any better!"

His harsh breath overheat my neck and I desperately want to swat at him, but his arms are too tightly woven around me, trapping me close to his body so that there's no room to escape.

"Doc!" Rosalie runs into the room so fast the door bounces against the wall, the resulting bang making both of us jump. His hold loosens enough where I'm able to jump away. He watches in despair before burying his face in his hands just long enough to wipe any remaining wetness away before facing the intruder with a sharp look.

"What is it, Rosalie?"

"Esme!" She points down the hall. "Evenson has her!"

He's on his feet and running faster than I can react, and after a few hurried breaths, I chase after him. Curiosity spikes in me, and if I'm completely honest with myself, how he left without even a glance back at me, hurts more than I could have imagined. Rosalie grabs at my arm as I pass; her blue eyes furious, and I know she didn't miss anything.

"Don't you dare hurt him." She thrusts me from her, and I only see the end of her hair whip away by the time I get my bearings.

I follow their hurried footsteps down the hall, the screams ringing louder and louder in my ear. The closer I get, the more distinct they become. Jane Jolie's echo from somewhere else in the prison. But Esme's hone in clearly, penetrating through a swinging door in Wing F.

She's bent over the bed, her pants pulled down to her knees. The orderly tries to push her face into the mattress, but she fights with swinging arms and legs. "Shut the fuck—"

Edward grabs him. Surprise is evident on the orderly's face before it's smacked off by Edward's fist. "Evenson! You bastard!"

One. Two. Three. That's all Edward gets in before the orderly reacts. His face is a bruised mess, blood smeared across his cheek and Edward's knuckles. He blocks Edward's next punch, giving one of his own. I lurch forward at the way Edward's body is thrown to the side, but he recovers quickly, his fist going in for more.

"Masen, you just keep making things harder for yourself."

"Fuck you, Evenson!"

Rosalie pulls me away as the two men tumble into the hall. Patients veer off in different directions, their screams following them as they run. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Esme pulls at her pants as she crawls on the floor. I go to help her, my efforts ignored as she quickly slithers along the linoleum to the locked door. She presses her cheek to the wood, rubbing her tears onto the surface. Rosalie drops to her knees, wrapping her arms around Esme's shaking shoulders.

The door rumbles, guttural screams of anger and pounding fists, yelling to be freed. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

Esme grabs at my hand. "Help him? Won't you please help him?"


	24. Chapter 24

**What do you call the head nacho of an asylum? Headmaster? Administrator? I went with director. Psht. I'm making this up as I go ;-)**

* * *

I hear them before I see them, my arms shooting out, pressing Esme and I against the door, away from the clattering. Their footsteps sound like a herd of wild animals stampeding down the hallway. And that's what they were. Animals. So I guess it's fitting. Hale leads the charge, holding a whistle to his lips, as if the blaring screech will break up the brawl between the two men.

Edward and Evenson don't even flinch in their direction. Though in his defense, Evenson is probably unable to. Edward's fist is relentless as he takes the upper hand of the fight. He's possessed with just one thought: destroy Evenson's face. He's done a fairly good job at it, despite having only seconds before Hale's pulling him off of the battered man.

It takes Hale and another orderly to hold Edward back while another two check on Evenson. I can't tell if he's conscious or not through his swollen eyes until he grimaces and spits blood in Edward's direction. Even after his beating, he still begs for Edward to attack.

"That all you got, Masen?" It's hard to understand him through the painful slur in his speech. "I've had worse from women in this hellhole."

Edward rages, pulling at the arms holding him back as Evenson is dragged down the hall and out of sight. Hale huffs and puffs with the effort, his eyes resolute when his strength fails him. "Calm the fuck down, Edward!"

Edward twists in his arms, pushing Hale hard enough that he slams into the wall. "Fuck you, Jasper. You're just like them."

Hale's shoulders deflate, his eyes pleading with desperation as he throws his hands up in surrender. He speaks so low I almost miss his whisper, "You know I have no choice."

His eyes meet mine, and it's like he suddenly remembers where he is. That too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright smile comes so easily to him. "Be careful, Patient Masen. You're already on Dr. Blacks watch list. One more strike. That's all it takes before you end up like your friend over there."

"Fuck you both," Edward says, turning his back, his face filled with so much fury as his eyes land on me.

The door still vibrates against my back, a constant thrum through all this craziness. "Stop! Stop! Stop!"

Edward walks toward me, and for a brief second, the sight of his bloody knuckles scares me enough to curl into a ball, pressing closer to Esme. Rosalie glares at me from over Esme's shoulder, and the guilt consumes. He was my green savoir before he was Dr. Edward Masen. There isn't anything different from the man he is now to the man that saved me from Hale's clutches. I am a horrible person for thinking that he could ever do me any harm.

I plead with my eyes, hoping he looks my way, but he ignores me as he presses his palm to the wood. "It's okay, old friend. Esme is okay."

"Peter! Stop! Stop! Stop!"

"Edward?" I ask. He takes a deep breath, slowing letting it out as he glances down at me through his eyelashes, his look so guarded it hurts my heart. "Who's in there?"

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen." He wavers, swaying unsteadily on his feet as everything seemingly catches up with him. "My friend and mentor, and previous director of Port Angeles Asylum."

He rests his forehead on the door, softly pounding his head against the wood. He squeezes his fists shut as if he's keeping every emotion bottled up inside of him. Blood drips from his knuckles, splashing near my feet, and I can't imagine the pain that he's in. I grab his wrist. He looks startled at my touch, his arm jerking away, but I don't let him, using the leverage to pull me up to a stand.

He watches me warily as I press the end of my sleeve against his open wound. "Will you tell me about it?"

"Are you ready to listen?"

"Yes."


	25. Chapter 25

**This has one of my favorite references to Peter Pan in it. Do you know which?**

* * *

The hallway begins to dim as the patients and orderlies disappear behind closed doors. Rosalie takes Esme back to her room, locking the both of them behind the wood while Edward let's me dab at his bleeding knuckles with the ends of my sleeves, no matter how futile the action seems to be.

Without all the prying eyes, just an empty corridor to keep us company, his green eyes glow with a sort of tenderness in the dying light. After another quick swipe over his wounds, he grabs my hand quickly with his fingers, pressing our palms together. I don't even care that his are sticky with blood, nor do I when he leads me away.

At first I think he's taking me back to his office, but soon the doors and quiet sounds become familiar to me, and then my room's threshold is before us. I quietly protest his tiny kiss in the palm of my hand with a whimper—more because I hate that it's like a goodbye but secretly loving the thrill it sends through my body. "Are you leaving me?"

"For now," he says, his eyes pleading with me to understand. "I have to take care of some things."

"But you said—"

Another quick kiss to my palm, silencing the objections that so easily fall from my lips. "I'll be back. You have my kiss, Wendy. Now keep it safe."

I close my fingers, trapping that secret, pulling his kiss close to my heart. He watches with adoring eyes. "I will."

He seems almost unhurried to leave, like the idea of departing hurts his heart so much that he continues to stare, taking all of what he can in. I can only imagine what he see of me with only the sunset to light the room. Does he notice the way my chest heaves with every deep breath I take, marking each beat my heart gives to him.

Or how my eyes flutter with both fatigue—because it's been a very long day with so many revelations uncovered—and excitement, like even the tiniest muscle in my body has to expend what little energy remains. I can only hope that the soft sighs and tender glances he gives me means his feelings are even stronger than the ones blossoming in my newly fog-less mind.

He whips his body around, forcing himself to turn away as if he could take in the sights all night long. His kiss flutters in my hand as he disappears down the hall, his footsteps a slowly dying echo in the night. I lay my lips against my fingers, hoping that maybe he can feel my kiss from so far away.

The cloud I'm floating on is so much different from the fog that brought me down for too long. It drifts along the threshold of my prison, moving at a slug's pace, hoping that my green savoir returns sooner rather than later. I wish I'd just gone in. Then maybe the confusion that follows would have been nonexistent.

That happy buoyant feeling disappears when the whimpering reaches my ears. It's so easy to lean over and peek through the cracked door into Alice's room. I should have learned my lesson the first time, but there's something about the curiosity in me that doesn't like letting the unknown fester inside.

Alice cries into her hands, perched on the edge of her bed. Hale sits next to her, his arms wrapped around her shaking shoulders as he whispers comfort into her ear. I'm not sure what surprises me the most. That they're fully clothed or that Hale almost looks like a normal human being and not the fake robot that greets me every morning.

"What are we going to do, Jasper?" She lifts teary eyes to him, and then, discouraged by the helplessness across his features, buries her face in his neck. He pulls her closer, his fingers digging into her skin in what I would imagine to be a painful gesture, but Alice doesn't even flinch.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'll figure out a way to save the both of you."


	26. Chapter 26

**Oh the cleverness of me! With a show of hands, who has read Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie?**

* * *

I'm having one of those dreams. I know I'm sleeping, but I can't quite escape the nightmare inside of my head. The bed is lumpy, unyielding to my twisting body. But the water is cool beneath my fingertips. My hand dances across the surface, between the dying ripples. He's down there, and I'm calm and resolved, like this is the end. He's gone, but not really. He can't leave me. Not anymore.

I twist away, glancing over my shoulder, but he calls me back, his hand ripping from the water, bloody fingers grabbing onto my wrist as he pulls me down, our faces inches apart.

He snarls, his face gray and ashy, his teeth grinding. "Why, Bella? Why?"

He drowns in a wave of red and blue, his grip on my wrist tight as he pulls me in after him. The scream I let loose is flooded by a rush of water, sucking the air from my lungs as I flail arms and legs, trying to escape.

"Wendy!" I shoot up in the bed, clawing at my throat. "Breathe!"

I gasp in deep gulps of sweet air. My head turns fuzzy with how fast I take it all in. "Edward?"

"I'm here," he says, pulling me closer, a hand rubbing my back in gentle, sweeping circles. "It was just a nightmare. You're okay."

I shake my head, not even caring that my hair and face drips with sweat. "It was so different."

"It's over now."

I swipe at the right-hand corner of my mouth where I had stored his kiss for safekeeping. "What time is it?"

"Late." He rubs his cheek against my crown. "I'm sorry it took so long."

"I don't care," I gasp out, the rush of silence clearing my ears of my heartbeat. "You're here now."

He gently lifts me from the bed, supporting my weight until my feet can. "Let's go."

"Where to?"

"Second door to the right and straight on 'til morning." He chuckles to himself. An inside joke brewing under the surface. I ask him with my eyes but he shakes his head, leaving me with that burning curiosity.

His office is lit with moonlight, soft shadows thrown around the darkened room with the ocean as a backdrop, waves in the distance mocking us with their freedom. Edward abandons my side, stroking the fireplace until the flames come back to life, shrouding the room in warmth and orange light.

"How do you get the wood?"

"Jasper leaves it for me."

He drops down onto the leather couch, and after a moment's hesitation, I join him, taking the spot I always have even if I didn't know it. "Will you tell me about it?"

He grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers but avoids my gaze, his eyes flying from the books to the desk to the window. "Port Angeles Asylum used to do good things when Dr. Carlisle Cullen was the director."

"You knew him well?"

"Yes." He nods his head. "He was a close family friend, and I looked up to him. He's the reason I became a psychiatrist. Why I wanted to come work here. I wanted to do good things just like him."

"Are you Peter?"

My green savior smiles, soft and gentle as the wind, forgotten memories coming to life. "Yes. He always said I was like the boy who never grew up. A dreamer who was too naïve for his own good."

I tighten my hold on his hand, hating the sadness that overpowers the happy. "What happened?"

"The world. Society. Dr. Black. Take your pick." He growls, anger making his face scowl at the air. "Nobody cares about a few crazy women."

"I don't like that man."

"He seemed perfect at first. Idealistic and wanting to change the world. By the time he showed us his true colors, _hooked_ his way into our lives, it was too late for us."

I don't think he realizes how firm his grip becomes, but I endure the pain, waiting for him to continue, knowing how hard it is to say these words, to bring up past agony and suffering and failures.

"He locked Carlisle in that room and pumped him full of cocktails, until only a remnant of the man I once knew remained. He would have done the same to me, but I play crazy too well."

He laughs, bitterness lacing the chuckles until only sobs remain. I scoot closer until our thighs are pressed together, wrapping my arm around his body so tight until he rests his head against my heartbeat, hoping he finds just a tiny bit of comfort in my arms. I lean down, pressing my lips to the right-hand corner of his mouth, giving his kiss back with one of my own.


	27. Chapter 27

**Read Edward's Sister by Powered by 23 Kicks this weekend. Loved it. Though major warnings for those of you a bit more squeamish on the taboo.**

* * *

The lines on his back are strong where I rub gentle circles with my palm, strength hidden beneath the beige uniform. He's small for a man. Nothing overly masculine. He doesn't have the high cheekbones or the strong nose that are preferred. He's tall but lacks the muscular build. And his eyes are openly kind toward women. He would be considered weak outside of these walls. Maybe that's why he came here in the first place, whether he knows it or not.

Either way, he fits perfectly in my arms. For a moment, I think he's fallen asleep. His sobs slowly taper off until it's only his breath warming the cotton on the flat of my shoulder. He says nothing for the longest time, his arms casually thrown around my waist, his fingers gripping and releasing the edges of my shirt.

I jump slightly when he speaks. "Thank you, Wendy. Thank you for listening."

"I'm sorry for everything you've had to go through." I pause, cherishing the contented sigh he breezes across my neck. I ignore the goose bumps spreading across my arm, but he's found them. His finger strokes the patterns they create. "Edward?"

"Yes?"

"How did he do it? Why hasn't anyone stopped Dr. Black?"

He hesitates, freezing before he lets the reluctance out with a breath. "Carlisle was married to his work. He was dedicated to helping women who needed psychiatric help. Society would never send a man here, even if they needed to be sent here."

"It's hard to imagine this place doing good."

"Some didn't agree. They hated how money was being spent on something they deemed so worthless. Most didn't care."

Women were useless in this society if they couldn't give healthy babies. Particularly healthy baby boys.

"But the orderlies…they rape the patients. No one thinks that's wrong?"

"Have you noticed the type of women in this place? Either they really do need psychiatric help or have no purpose in society. Either way, no one cares about them. No one cares if they're abused. No one cares if they're hurt."

I pull away, avoiding his grappling fingers and panicked expression, and quickly cup his face with within my palms. I sweep my thumbs across his brows, his lips, his nose, his cheek, drawing lines between the tiny freckles.

"But you do," I say. "You care."

He smiles, that tiny hesitant one where he lifts just one corner of his lips. It's not too rich. It's far from perfect. And it's only bright to me. I love it.

"Maybe I care too much."

"Or maybe you care just enough."

The tips of his fingers are rough as he slides them down my cheeks, feeling his way across the slope of my neck, kneading while passing my shoulders, and surrounding my waist until he can cross them behind me.

"I care about you."

I wait until his breath hitches with uncertainty and then smooth his worries away with my words. "I care about you too."

This time when he kisses me, it's on my lips. He leans forward slowly, our eyes level and watching each other's movements, each other's reactions. He stalls, just inches from touching, his lips blowing soft breaths across my own, waiting for my rejection. But he must see it. How my eyes beckon. How my lips ache to be touched. How my heart races, my breath increases, my lashes flutter in anticipation.

When he finally presses our lips together, I sigh in delight, falling into his embrace, trusting his arms to catch me. It's soft at first. Short little brushes, his plump flesh against my own, until I grow too impatient, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing our lips harder together, opening up until I can suck his flesh in.

I've always been a good kisser. That was one lesson in my schooling I passed with flying colors, but I've never derived pleasure from it. Never enjoyed the carnal act. Always taught that it was our job to make the man satisfied. Until now at least. I push at my green savior, devouring him when he fails to go further, falling onto his lap when his hands insist.

"Wendy," he sighs, looking down at me, his eyes sweeping across my flushed cheeks glowing by the firelight.

I reach up, running the tips of my fingers across his swollen lips. I can't get enough. "Edward…Peter…won't you kiss me again."

His smile warns me because neither can he.


	28. Chapter 28

**Beep. If you ever have any questions, comments, or concerns, let me know, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you for readership. Beep.**

* * *

Rosalie grits her teeth, her blue eyes glowing in their rage. "I don't know how much longer can I stand this."

My greens savior winces. His hand twitches in mine as if he's fighting the urge to cover his ears. "Maybe we should talk to her."

"Apparently, she hasn't said one word since she's gotten here," Jessica says. Lauren laughs at her, bitter and angry. "You were the one who was so excited about her."

Rosalie lifts her cup, jumping as another scream pierces through the air, spilling water down her front. "Why don't they just give her a fucking cocktail that knocks her out?"

"Rose…" Edward admonishes, but his look of disappointment doesn't even faze her.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired of not sleeping."

The high-pitched screaming grows louder. Everyone in the common room groans as several orderlies drag Screeching Jane to the nearest couch, throwing her onto the cushions before running off in haste. Wood scratches against wood as chairs are thrown back and patients quickly rise to their feet, running from the room in an effort to escape and save their ears.

Edward's hand tugs on my own. "Come on."

We follow Rosalie and Jessica and Lauren down the hall, Screeching Jane's echo following us even to Edward's office. Shutting the door saves us from the brunt of her shrieks, casting only a soft echo around the room. We've learned to ignore it.

"Jane Jolie no more." Jessica sighs, leaning against a shelf, forcing her sister to follow suit.

Lauren glares at her, the intensity scorching even from where I take perch on my spot on the leather couch. "You were her biggest fan."

"She's literally gone crazy now. She hasn't shut up since she's got here. She yells at nothing."

"You mean she yells at everything."

"What wing is she in this week?"

"V," Rosalie says, hunched over in Edward's desk chair, her head between her legs, blonde curls dragging through the dust on the ground. "She was in my wing last week, and Wing V is right next door. I'm so fucking tired."

She throws herself back in the chair, laying her head against the torn cushion, her hand rubbing gentle circles across her stomach. Lauren and Jessica close the space between them, offering their friend comfort. Lauren sweeps Rosalie's hair to the side with her hand while Jessica massages her shoulder with hers.

"Don't worry, Rose,"

"Everything will be okay."

Edward fidgets in front of them, his fingers tearing at the loose threads on his uniform. "You can sleep in here if you want."

I hate the sudden jolt in my heart. I don't want her to. My green savior and I spend our nights in this room with only the fire as company. With her here, I wouldn't be able to cuddle against his body, his arms wrapped around me, the flames keeping us warm during the cold night as we whisper our secrets and desires to each other. I silently chastise myself for my selfishness.

When Rosalie shakes her head, I secretly dance with joy. "No. King would just find me. There's no point."

Edward clenches his fist, his teeth grinding. "I'll take him down for you. That bastard."

"No," she's resolute in both her voice and the way she glares at him. "Leave him be. You concentrate on the plan."

He tenses as if he's ready to argue and then, "Fine, but I don't like it."

"You don't have to, but that's my sacrifice." She turns toward Jessica and Lauren. "Do you two mind helping me to my room? I'm feeling a little faint."

They nod their heads, each of them holding onto one of Rosalie's hands as she stands. They say their goodbyes to Edward and bobbing their heads at me. It's when they pass that I see. The tiny but definite bump barely hidden beneath her beige shirt. Her eyes catch mine, and she realizes I know, her hand rubbing her love into her belly.

I see the real Rosalie then. Vulnerable and sad. How she fears the night and the monsters that come with it. How she endures the pain and violations for something she considers greater than herself. How she sacrifices the last vestige of her naïve soul for a life that hasn't even been born yet.

She's just like me. She knows how to pleasure. How to pretend. How to act. To love without really loving. To kiss with feeling without really feeling it. She probably passed all her classes with flying colors as well. And looking into her eyes, I see an understanding. We were women bred to further the advances of man. To please. To take care of. To die for.


	29. Chapter 29

**I feel like I should insert another disclaimer in here so...**

 **I don't own Peter Pan.**

* * *

The air feels muggy as I shift around in my chair. Even this far into the prison, I can still hear the hushed echo of Screeching Jane. There are no clocks in here. I've checked three times now, hoping that with every glance around there's a way to mark how many minutes have passed has magically appeared. I have no such luck, so instead I count each of Dr. Black's breath. Inhale. One. Exhale. Inhale. Two. Exhale. All the way up until I lose count around one thousand.

It takes one thousand breaths for him to speak. One thousand breaths for him to look up from the paper he's scrawling across. One thousand breaths to notice me. I've begun to think he didn't even know I was here. The fogged up version of me probably wouldn't have been aware. This fogless version of me sits in tense pain, waiting, waiting, and more waiting.

I count his breaths, anticipating for when I can leave and reunite with my green savior. I left him in his office, his words telling me to go, his eyes begging me to stay. His goodbye kiss is at first sweet and gentle until it's wet and hard, and it takes Hale clearing his throat to break us apart.

"For fucks sakes, Cullen. She'll only be gone an hour."

Edward smiles at me, ignoring the orderly I've come to hate just a little bit less, before leaning in for another kiss. It reminds me of the night when he stopped asking to kiss me. When he took my lips with his because he knows just how much I want it too. I love how he can be both sweet and demanding. How he charms me with his dulcet tones of affection and tender caresses across my hands, my face my arms, my back. How he possesses every twist of my hips, every moan that falls from my lips with his commanding grip on my body.

During the night, when all the patients have gone to sleep and the orderlies have slithered their way back to where they came from, he comes to me, to my bed, pulling me to my feet and down the hall until we're locked away in his office with only the fire and the waving ocean in the distance as company.

We sit on the worn leather couch, telling stories, laughing at how Jessica and Lauren bicker, cooing over Rosalie's growing tummy, hummed to sleep by Screeching Jane's ever-present howling. But it's the nights he pulls me onto his lap, his lips insistent on my flesh, his words begging me, "Please, Wendy. Please make us both feel good."

Over and over until finally I comply after relentlessly teasing him just because I can, and when we're boneless, breathless, panting into each other's necks, smiling at the brief freedom, laughing at the mess we've created in our clothes, we hold each other until the sun comes up and we have to restart our day of pretending to swallow cocktails and secret conversations behind closed doors.

When Hale grows too impatient, done waiting for our tenderness to end and eager to leave the office he obviously doesn't feel very comfortable in, he grabs my arm, yanking me—albeit gently—from my green savior. It doesn't matter. He could have only touched my elbow with his fingertips, Edward would have still pushed him against the wall, his arm lodged up against Hale's throat, his face snarling in anger as he spits out, "Don't you ever touch her again."

Hale puts his arms up in surrender, choking out words around his closed up throat. "I won't. I'm just trying to do my job."

"Remember to keep your job away from her."

Edward steps back, ignoring the way Hale gasps in air, and takes my hand, bringing my palm to his lips. "A kiss for the road, Wendy."

I tuck it safely in the right-hand corner of my mouth. "I'll be right back. Good—"

He jerks me toward, pressing our foreheads together. "Never say goodbye."

"Because goodbye means going away."

"And going away means forgetting," he ends on a whisper, watching helplessly as I leave behind Hale.

"Isabella?"

I glance up. One thousand. "What did you say?"

Dr. Black's stare is as neutral as the colors in his office. "I asked how you were."

"Good."

"I heard you've been making some new friends."

"Yes."

"Things are going well then with them?"

I think of my green saviors last kiss still safely tucked in the right-hand corner of my mouth and smile. "Yes."

"Your memory has improved so much from that visit a few weeks ago, so I assume we've found the right cocktail mix."

I itch to pat my pocket where a plethora of candy sits. "Yes."

"Tell me, Isabella, do you ever think about home?"

The smile drops from my face. "No."

"Not even about Emmett."

I stay silent.

"I'm just wondering with your newly found clarity if you remembered what happened back at home.

Blue. So much blue. "Stop."

"Let's talk about Emmett. You couldn't before, so I'm wondering if you can now."

Red. Sticky, sticky red everywhere. "Stop it."

"More specifically, Isabella, let's talk about the day Emmett wanted to leave you."

Screaming. So much screaming. I couldn't stop screaming. "I said stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" I can't stop screaming.

"Isabella…"

I don't know what he says next. I don't know what he does when I tune him out. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the tears falling down my cheeks, remembering my sweet face brother and wondering when he'll visit me next. Emmett. Emmett. Please come. Please come and take me from this prison. You promised. You never break your promises. Until everything goes white. Or dark. I can't be too sure.


	30. Chapter 30

**Sorry that it has been a while! I started watching How To Get Away With Murder and couldn't stop.**

* * *

The water is cold against my feet, my legs, my thighs, splashing over the lip of the pool to cool off my hips. No one is around. No one usually is. This place is my escape, my sanctuary. Where I can go to hide from the world. This cruel, cruel man's world. I hear him before I see him. His footsteps are loud against the ground, each one marking his beat closer to me. Thump. Thump. Thump. Two more brings him behind me on the lawn. He doesn't touch me. He doesn't need to. I can feel the way he stares so intently at my back. I can feel how he yearns for me to acknowledge his presence. I can feel his frustration, his sadness, his anger. "Come back to me, Wendy."

"I've been looking all over for you."

"You found me."

I'm knocked forward. My shoulder burns from the slight painful slap. I barely catch myself, creating waves with my flailing legs until I'm drenched up to my shoulders. "Wendy…"

"Just leave me alone!"

"Talk to me. Let's have a normal conversation without you throwing a fucking fit."

I squint my eyes hard enough to where the blue turns into green, glittering with tears, beckoning me back into its depths. It isn't until I feel the drips from my chin and see the ripples in the pool that I realize I'm crying. I bitterly wipe away the salt water with the back of my hand. "Please, Wendy."

"What is there to talk about?"

"What do you want me to do? Shack up with Mother and Father for the rest of my life?"

The wind rustles my hair, sweeping curls against my cheeks, and I almost sigh at the gentle touch. At the soft kisses against the contours of my face. At the whispered words pressed to my closed eyes. More tears come, and there's nothing I can do about them. They blur my vision until I'm not sure what's real and what's not. "Come back to me."

"You're leaving me. And you didn't even ask."

"I can make a difference. I can change the world. I can save people."

He curses under his breath, and I feel the whoosh of his kick before I hear the clattering result. I jerk away from where the porcelain table flies through the air before coming to a rolling stop in the garden. The glass top shivers through the air like a Frisbee, shattering on impact with the ground, shards coming dangerously close to my bare flesh. "I love you, Wendy."

"Fuck!" he yells, clambering in my direction, glass crunching underneath his boots. "Be careful."

"If you leave," I whisper as his hands grab my arms, "Who will save me?"

I can't stop screaming. I never knew red could feel so hot. My throat is burning with each yell that leaves my mouth, and even through all the pain and the echoes of memories, I know he's there, coaxing me with gentle touches and murmured words. I jerk around in the bed, kicking and slapping at nothing and everything all at the same time.

"What did he give her, Jasper?" His voice is hard and I even I quiver under the gristly tones.

"Nothing! Black said nothing!"

"Look at her!" There's a shuffle and a pained shout and then he's back with me again. "He did something to her!"

"She's having a break, Masen."

"She's not crazy!"

I'm not. I'm not crazy. "Edward?"

"Wendy?" His head whips in my direction so fast I can feel the rustle of air. "Are you with me, Wendy? Come back to me."

My throat hurts with misuse when I speak. "My green savior."

"I'm here. I'm here."

"Doc!"

His lips move while still pressed against my cheek. "Not now, Rosalie."

"We have a problem."

"Fuck."

I want to hold him. Keep him close. Don't let him leave. But I can't move. Nothing seems to work.

"Fine. I'm coming." I shake my head as the tears come back. "I'll be right back, Wendy. I swear it."

He goes before I can stop him, and I know I can't let him leave me too.


	31. Chapter 31

**And back to our regularly scheduled program.**

* * *

He whispers his pleas against my skin, running his lips down my face. My forehead. My eyes. My cheeks. The very tip of my nose. "Come back to me," he says over and over, each hushed word a breath across my will to stay buried in my mind. Where it's safe. Where it's happy. Where Emmett and I laugh and play and live. Together.

"Bella. Bella. Bella."

Fighting back into consciousness is like swimming through mud. I can't see where I'm going. Up and down have no meaning. And no matter how hard I push and pull, it feels as if I'm not moving. As if giving up and laying back would be so much easier than fighting for something I'll never obtain.

"Come back to me."

If it isn't for him. Him with the eyes so green. Him with the smile so crazy. Him with the gaze so deep, so intense, saying so much that even the right words wouldn't be able to hold their meaning. He's worth it. He's worth the ache in my arms and legs, the burn in my eyes, the pain it takes to come back into the real world.

His kisses. Both soft and demanding. Pressing against mine as his fingers pull me closer. Our breaths shared until we're both gasping. For air. For each other. Worth it.

Holding onto his shoulders as he holds onto my hips. Rolling forward and backward with each push and pull of his. Feeling him grow so hard as I grow so wet. Worth it.

The look on his face as he waits for me to fall. The smile he gives me when I recover from the pleasure. His head thrown back when he finally lets go. Worth it.

Lips brush against my own. Once. Twice. Three times. Muttering words I can't understand past the heartbeat in my ears. It takes effort to open my eyes, squinting against the streak of light shooting across the room from the cracked doorway. I smile up at the blur above me, weaving my fingers through his hair when he leans down for another kiss.

"Edward?"

"Bella. Bella. Bella."

His fingertips play at the hem of my shirt, smoothing against trembling skin before sliding under all that beige cloth. I freeze for half a second. He's never gone under clothes. Never risked going too far. Never tempted himself with something he wouldn't let himself have no matter how much I offered.

"Edward?"

"Bella. Bella. Bella."

The blur straightens out into hard lines and aching hearts and that's when the nightmare begins. Blue eyes greet me. Blond hair caresses me. Skin too pale hovers above me. And lips more pink than rust pucker for another kiss. I turn my head at the last second, hating when he brushes against my cheek.

"Stop."

"It's okay, Isabella. I won't hurt you."

His hand travels higher, fingertips tracing the underside of my breasts. I cringe away, scooting across the mattress, but he stops me with a hand on my waist.

"Hale…"

"I'm sorry. I'll be quick."

His hand retreats from my shirt, and I have a few brief moments of relief before he's grabbing at my pants, pulling at the elastic waistline until they are just past my hips. I yelp, struggling in his hold, attempting to roll away. He grunts when I slap his chest in my escape, his fingers tightening around beige until his knuckles are white.

"Please! Stop!"

My world blurs again for the same amount of time it takes Hale to twist me around, bending my body over the bed, my knees scrapping against the cold floor. "I'm sorry, Isabella. It's my job. I have to."

He yanks at my clothes, jerking my body around while keeping me pinned to the mattress with a palm pressed between my shoulder blades. When the cool air touches my bare skin, I cry, rubbing my tears into the sheets.

"Help!" I yell though it comes out more as a whimper, the sound dying in the dark. "Edward!"

"I'm so sorry," he says, again, pressing his naked lower half against mine. I can feel him growing where he's pushing with his fingers. "Fuck. I knew you'd be tight."

I stretch my arms, grabbing at the other end of the mattress, pulling against his hold. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do. He'll know if I don't." He's hard against me, rubbing his dick between my legs. "Christ! That feels good."

I scream so loud, hoping it rivals Screeching Jane. I scream so loud I can hear the echo down the hall. I scream so loud, waiting for help, despairing when it doesn't come. In this prison, screams in the middle of the night aren't out of the ordinary.

"What's going on here?"

I turn my head toward the door, scraping my face against the rough sheet as Hale's weight on me doesn't allow for a lot of movement. Alice's silhouette stands in the doorway, her palm flat against the slammed open door.

Hale reacts as fast as she flies across the room in her rage. She throws him back, his hands catching his fall, his dick waving in the air. I pull at my pants, crawling on the floor until I'm pressed into the wall, watching as she stands over his body, her hands clenched into fists, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He gulps as we both wait for her wrath to spew out in words. Instead, she twists her head, glaring at me over her shoulder, her eyes shooting so much hostility in my direction. "This is all your fault."


	32. Chapter 32

**Blister in the Sun is up for vote for TwiFanfictionRecs Top 10 Completed Fics in April. I'd appreciate a vote if you're up for it :)**

* * *

She turns. Her solid fists of rage now pointed in my direction. One step. Two. And then three brings her in front of me. The tips of her shoes press painfully against my shins. Her face is on fire with her anger. Her glare is even worse, scorching me with the intensity of her hate.

"This is all your fault." Her voice is low, trembling with each word as if it's taking all of her willpower to contain her fury within.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I didn't do anything."

"He wants you," she whispers, her eyes falling to the sliver of skin peeking out from where Hale tore at my shirt.

Her fingers unclench before squeezing back together again. Over and over. And each time I'm scared that she'll attack with ready fists. Hale is a blur in the background as he pulls himself to his feet, fixing his pants over his still hard dick. He grimaces as he shifts himself around.

"Alice," he says calmly as if talking to a rattled dog. "Let's go back to your room."

She whirls around so fast my vision clouds over. I reel back in surprise when Hale whips to the side, a bright red handprint across his cheek perfectly matching Alice's bright red palm.

"You never want them. You do it because you have to, but you never want them." She glares at me from over her shoulder again. "Until her."

"It's not what you think," he says, his hands out, palms up as if waiting for her acceptance.

Her face becomes an assortment of emotions. Rage. Sadness. The pursing of her lips contrasting to the tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm not blind! You fucking want her."

"I don't! Dr. Bla—"

She whirls again and then there are more clouds. More fog. More unknown. I push, waving at the uncertainty, brushing them from my vision, from my mind, aching for the clarity that had become apart of my life. It clears but not fast enough for me to avoid her hand.

"This is all your fault!"

The first hit is across my face with her open palm. It stings and my neck hurts from being whipped to the side, but it's bearable. The second hit is with her close fist, making contact right at the apple of my cheek, blooming pain making my vision black. Being punched for the first time is like going on your first rollercoaster ride. The anticipation is unbearable. The crescendo is painful. But the fall is worse.

"Why do they watch you?"

"I didn't do anything!" I yell again, grabbing at her wrists, avoiding her punches, drenched in her rage.

"Why do they treat you like glass?"

"Stop! Please, Alice, stop!"

"What is so special about you?"

"I don't know!"

Hale runs over, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as he hauls her away, lifting her squirming body from the ground. She kicks out, landing a foot across my chest, slamming me back into the wall. My head cracks against the concrete, my hand flying out and hitting the glass window.

"Alice! Fucking stop!"

"Why won't you tell me the truth?"

She screams, a harmony to Screeching Jane's echoes, before clawing at her captor, bright red scratches mark their way down Hale's arms in the wake of Alice's nails. It's automatic when he throws her body to the side, letting go on instinct. Guilt washes over his face as she rolls across the floor.

"Fuck, Alice. I'm so sorry!"

He grabs at her shoulders, and she brushes him away with her slapping hands, jumping to her feet, screaming, "Don't touch! Don't fucking touch me!"

She bolts out of my prison. Hale is quick on her heels. I count my breaths. One. Two. Three. Waiting for my heart to calm and the silence to overcome, but it doesn't. Nothing in me relaxes. Not the heartbeat in my ears. Or the sweat running down my back. Or my breaths coming out too fast. I fight my way to my feet, using the wall as support, and edging along the room and out into the hallway.

"Edward…"

"My green savior." One step. Fog.

"I need you." Two steps. So much fog.

"Come back to me." Three steps. Everywhere.

On and on and on when all I want is my green savior's arms around me. Seeping into the cracks in the floor and the wall and under the doors of each prisoner's room. Slipping through my waving fingers and clouding my vision. The world spins when the scream rings down the hall. Not the anger of Alice. Or the consistency of Jane. But terror. Pure terror down my spine.

"Stop it! Stop it! Help! Someone help me!"


	33. Chapter 33

**The date so perfectly matches this chapter.**

* * *

My vision narrows as the fog thickens. I shake my head, gagging as nausea rises from the whipping movement. I grab onto the wall for support, leaning heavily against the concrete. Another terrifying scream pierces my ears. Heads peek out of their prisons, curious eyes glancing up and down the hallway.

Hale twists in circles, his eyes wild, his curls swinging in the air. He waves his arms at the few girls brave enough to settle their inquisitiveness. "Run! Get back!"

He glances over his shoulder at me, panic flaring in his eyes as he stumbles away even faster. "Alice!"

My feet slide against the floor as I drag them past each closed door. Hints of whimpering and cries and pulses of sadness and silent rage permeate through the fog, but not enough to make me care. This prison has always been that. Always been vile, immoral…wrong. The fog is almost a welcomed old friend. If it weren't for my green savior, I'd hide in it forever.

Hale trips ahead, his hands barely catching himself as he slides along the linoleum. He's quick to rise, his feet slipping on the floor as he rushes back into a sprint. He disappears around the corner into the common room. I couldn't care less where he decides to disappear off to. Not when I'm this much closer to having my green savior's arms around me.

"Help!"

It feels like I'm yelling with the way my throat burns, but I know it's nothing more than a whisper that doesn't even warrant an echo. "Edward…"

The fog turns red. My feet slip on the floor. I grab onto the wall to help my balance, placing my forehead against the cool concrete, a blooming pain streaking through my head. I clench my fists, concentrating on where my fingernails bite into my flesh, waiting for the ache to subside, and when it does, I continue, turning the corner.

"Someone help!"

The common room is dimly lit. A lamp flickers in the corner, casting gloom across the empty tables and chairs. I navigate my way through it all, hating at the explosive sound each piece of furniture makes when I inevitably crash into it. I have tunnel vision, and at the very end is the doorway that will lead me to the wing with office with the ocean view and the warmth of the only man I care for in this prison. That's what makes me fight each jab of wood into my thigh, my stomach, the edge of my hip. I do it for him.

"Please! Stop!"

I'm surprised I hear the footstep through all the fog. They're quick, each hasty beat reverberating against the walls. I'm even more surprised by how fast I react, dropping to my knees and crawling under the closest table. I can't risk being caught out of my room so late at night. They'd take me away, lock me up, and who knows how many days and nights I'd go without seeing my green savior. Without kissing his lips. Without begging him to take me. Without shushing his protests.

I press deeper underneath, willing my breaths to silently seep out between my lips as the footsteps grow louder. I glance over, nearly jumping out of my spot and ruining my cover when Screeching Jane stares back from underneath another table. And maybe her being completely soundless is the biggest surprise of the night. I can't remember when the echoes of her screams stopped, but here she is now, with me, huddled under opposite tables, hiding from the world.

A shadow darkens the doorway, and an orderly walks in. I recognize the uniform, the shoes, the arrogant way his legs roam the room. Screeching Jane gasps in fear, her gray eyes clouding over with alarm and dread as her shoulders visibly begin to shake. I raise a wet finger to my lips, silently warning her into quiet.

Her eyes widen as she throws a hand over her mouth. The orderly barely glances around the room, his shadow never leaving the entrance, before he's off running further down the hall. I wait one second…two seconds…three seconds, before scooting out from under the table. I'm so close. To the threshold that will take me into lover's arms. I crawl towards the darkened doorway. Partly because I'm scared another orderly will appear and it'll be quicker to hide if I'm already on the floor. But mostly because my mind is spinning too fast, the fog is coming in too thick, that I don't have the strength or bearings to bring myself back up to my feet.

My hand slips against the wet floor, and for a second the red against my palm doesn't register in my blurry mind…until it does. Glaring. Vibrant. Dripping scarlet from my fingers down my wrist, staining my beige sleeve. It collects in a puddle slowly forming around my body. I follow the river, past the cracked linoleum and ending on an unmoving body.

I gulp. Not sure if I want to run or see who lies lifeless on the floor. I choose the latter. Mostly because of my handicaps at the moment. My heart joins the race toward failure along with the rest of my limbs as I place a hand on the shoulder and pull until the body falls onto its back. Blue eyes stare unseeingly up at the ceiling. A smile too-rich-too-perfect-too-bright frozen in time. Masses of blond soaked in red.

The delicate flesh across his neck separates into two fluttering pieces, the blood oozing from the slice and glazing down to the floor forming the river I slipped in. More lacerations collect red across his chest. One. So deep. Two. So shallow. Three. So crazy. It's not everyday you're faced with death, and that's why I don't see her when she attacks. When she pounces on me so hard that my head slams onto the floor. Black dots mar my vision as I feebly attempt to fight off her fists. But it's her words that hurt the most. That scar with each hit, each scratch, each bruise. That fester their way into my heart and my guilt.

"This is all your fault! This is all your fault! This is all your fault!"

* * *

 **FFn is having another whacky moment, so I wasn't able to respond to reviews yesterday. I just want to let you all know I appreciate all your comments!**

 **Annie: Enough matches for you?**

 **Maples: Happy now?**


End file.
